


Southern Snowflake

by Silberias



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Lyanna is a boss ass bitch, Sansa and Pod are old time bros from KL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 11:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8622865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silberias/pseuds/Silberias
Summary: Podrick thought he would sit this one out, be on the sidelines and do what Brienne told him to do. Too bad Lyanna Mormont has other plans that he oh-so-wonderfully-fits into.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueCichlid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueCichlid/gifts).



> One of a few Podsa ideas that I had kicking around in my little head, I hope you enjoy it!

Podrick had stayed to look after Sansa at the command of Brienne—she would continue trying to find Arya Stark, he would ensure that no more harm came to Sansa. He knew several things already about the situation in Winterfell:

Jon Snow wasn’t aware of the great potential his sister created in terms of alliances.

Petyr Baelish was a schemer waiting for his opportunity, and his eyes lingered on the lady too long.

Davos Seaworth was loyal but he did not yet have a good feel for the man he advised, and he had not yet come to terms with what had happened to his previous lord.

Sansa Stark knew all of these things and guarded herself accordingly. Escaping King’s Landing when she had had saved her from Queen Cersei and her lackeys but there had been a high price paid for it. Podrick knew what it was like to be moved around like a pawn based upon the status bestowed by birth—who died in your stead, who looked over you thinking they knew better, who bullied or intimidated you. He found himself wishing he could help her but he saw no way to do so.

It was, however, young Lyanna Mormont who cornered him and dragged him to Lady Sansa’s solar. She was tiny, her hand barely grasping his wrist properly, but she was strong and full of purpose. The cold flat line her lips pressed into belied her age—she looked as jaded as Brienne.

“Lady Stark, I beg you give me an audience,” the young girl announced after shutting the door behind them and bolting it. Lady Sansa looked up from the cloak she’d been sewing and her eyes slid from Lady Mormont to Pod and then back to the Lady of Bear Island once more.

“I grant it,” she said, setting her needle down and weaving her fingers together.

“The North must unite behind the banner of your forefathers and not fall to pieces. You are the heir of King Jon, and you are unwed. Before the King’s bannermen, as well as generals from foreign parts, fall to bickering over you like carrion birds, House Mormont suggests a solution. Wed below your station and wed quickly. Wed this boy from House Payne and His Grace will be able to move on to important items. Such as striking to create his own legacy, instead of crooked power plays involving whose cock goes in his sister.”

Lady Sansa’s mouth tightened into a frown and her eyelids lowered into a glare as Lady Lyanna spoke. One small hand took up the needle once more, nothing more than a simple opening and closing of fingers, but it struck fear into Podrick nonetheless. Southern ladies had only needles to defend themselves, and she’d learned to be a lady in the South.

“This is impertinent, Lady Mormont.”

“This is necessary, Lady Stark,” she fired back.

“What spurs you to suggest a southerner?”

“He has nothing, and no _one_ ,” the girl’s heavy accent was a bit painful as she illuminated Podrick’s most private and true fear. Without Lord Tyrion, without Brienne, without the Starks he would not have survived this far and would not continue to. There was no place for a bumbling squire such as himself in this world, not with winter closing in and so much war and strife. No fine lady of as high birth as Lady Sansa would consider wedding a boy such as him.

“My brother needs allies—”

"Allies who value him more than for what they find betwixt his sister’s legs. As head of House Mormont I ask that you bring the focus away from yourself for the time being. If they would wed into House Stark they may wed its king outright. There may be those who turn their nose at his bastard birth, but then you know they need not be fed through the winter--and you'll know King' jon's bride to be of loyal, or at least ambitious, stock.”

“And of course then you would serve as the King's bride, you mean,” Lady Sansa fired back.

There was a long silence where nothing was said and Pod felt the mood was too tense to even breathe. Finally Lady Sansa turned her face down and away from where Podrick and his companion stood. Her stare was something Pod remembered from King’s Landing—seeing things a hundred leagues away, or a hundred days of the past. Lord Tyrion had always thought she was listless from her grief, but now Pod saw it was where she went to review her plans and the steadiness of her situation.

“There are too many men and not enough women,” she finally bit out, “and the men will take great umbrage with whatever man Jon chooses for me, thinking themselves passed over. Those without daughters can hardly stand on their slight if the marriage bed they wish to fill is Jon’s and not my own.”

“Were you from Bear Island you might choose your own in private and be done with it without even a pledge before the gods,” Lady Lyanna sniffed, pushing Pod a little closer to Lady Sansa, “but you are a Stark of Winterfell, and our king’s rule is fragile so long as winter holds. I bid you good day, Lady Stark, and I thank you for your audience.” And then the girl was gone without so much as a curtsy.

“Hello Pod,” Lady Sansa said, her voice quiet but a little warm as she reached out a hand to bring him to sit next to her, “it seems we are thrown together by fate and Mormonts. Don’t worry about asking Jon, I will inform him of what’s been decided. He’ll know it’s for the best.” Pod couldn’t do anything but nod, not even taking his hand from her small cool one. He studied her in the light from the candles and the fire, seeing the sharpness of her face and the aged quality of her eyes and the line of her mouth. He knew what had happened to her, he’d heard the shrieks of the bastard she’d been sold off to--when she’d fed the man to his own dogs.

It was ugly of him but he’d been happy for her then. The rotten king who’d killed her father, the horrible things that had been done to her brothers and mother, what had even been done to her castle and her person—there was so much on that side of the scale, but what she’d done to Ramsay Bolton was a step towards righting it all. Not all of it, but some.

“If Brienne were here she’d chuck the idea out,” he blurted, almost tempted to lift his hand from her delicate fingers. There was a wry twist to Sansa’s mouth then, he saw out of the corner of his eye.

“If Brienne were here I’d make her marry Jon—they could be awkward and quiet and too good at swords together, and I wouldn’t worry over him so much. Or her.” Pod snorted and then chuckled at the very picture, furtively whispering that it would break Tormund’s poor heart to see either of his loves pledge their troth to another. Lady Sansa japed back, equally secretive in her tone, that he would simply carry on an affair with both.

They sat together the rest of the afternoon until supper when she allowed him to escort her to the small room that was lately serving as a make-shift dining hall. It wasn’t practical to light enough fires to keep the feasting hall warm—there were not enough people and it would waste precious dry firewood. Pod tucked them into a smaller corner where no one would bother them and tried to keep his guts from turning to water when he met the formidable gaze of Lady Lyanna from where she sat close to King Jon.

“She will be a terror if she becomes Lady of Winterfell—but that is what’s needed, after all that’s happened,” Lady Sansa said quietly over the small cup of mulled wine he brought her, breaking the easy staring contest she’d been having with the Lady of Bear Island. She turned her face to him and gave him a tiny smile, “her blood is all from the North, the cold of a crown won’t bother her children as much as it would any child of mine.”

And so it was settled. Podrick Payne married, with permission and good wishes of King Jon, Sansa Stark both beneath the boughs of a heart tree as well as the remnants of Lady Catelyn's sept. There was no bedding, the very idea of it forbidden by the King, and instead the new couple sat playing games of memory and history on top of their furs--aided greatly in their small merriment by the wine gifted to them by their guests. For just that night they were allowed to shed their mantles of responsibility, she of being a great lady and grown woman and he of being anything approaching a fine lord or warrior. Just a girl and a boy, intent on one another without any other cares in the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know Lyanna is super too young for Jon Snow--but she's planning ahead because she does NOT want this shit happening again in the North. She figures if he and Sansa can keep their shit together for a few years then she can wait and bide her time, then be 1) of a good age (16 or 17) when spring comes around and 2) have a good grasp on whether or not Jon is a complete idiot or if he's gotten his head on straight after getting dead'd.
> 
> Let me know how you liked it! Thank you for reading!


End file.
